


your steps, like intoxicating poison

by milkbear



Series: v. tales [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, dancing (i can’t write), historical fiction - Freeform, jaemin is a rich fellow, renjun is the prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkbear/pseuds/milkbear
Summary: dancing in the moonlight with a masked stranger





	your steps, like intoxicating poison

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [cantarella](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=5nBy0wjn2Fg)

renjun is absolutely exhausted. 

his parents are hosting the third party of the month. they, as the king and queen of the country, are desperate for their only son to find a gentlelady to court. knowing he dislikes social events, they have been planning party after party, inviting every aristocrat they know. 

renjun despises it for the sole reason of having no interest in women, a predicament he would never even imagine admitting to his parents. they want grandchildren, future heirs to the throne — renjun just wants to fall in love with the right man.

the prince repeats the same mundane process of clothes, hair, crown, and greetings for each and every guest. his sleeves, intricately laced, are too long for his length-challenged arms; only his fingertips are out of fabric’s hold, but he hides his hands anyway behind his back so surely no one notices. he curses the shorter (and overall daintier) genes he received from his mother. 

renjun is shy — very shy. it may have already been mentioned, but he hates socializing. merely a couple servants and maids are people he is comfortable speaking to. and his parents are still demanding that he dance with ladies who catch his attention? preposterous, truly. none of them _do_ appear special to him to begin with, except for a few who are “prettier than the rest yet still unappealing”.

a group of three young women walk by and bow for renjun. they giggle at the sight of the charmingly reserved chocolate-haired prince. renjun feels apologetic for getting their hopes — of perhaps romancing him this evening and having a wonderful time — up. 

“go ahead. walk around, meet some new people,” prompts the king, gesturing to the crowd that fills the ballroom. renjun complies without a word.

viscountess park. duchess jung. baroness kim. the richest (unmarried) women of the kingdom (and some men, here simply for the festivities and to find some ladies themselves) brush arms with renjun as he walks by and smile their best formal smile. renjun forces one back each occurrence. 

eyes. he senses a pair of eyes focused on him, chasing him as he weaves between every dancing aristocrat there is. the gaze is intense. passionate.

renjun turns around. he meets a gaze, staring at him through a black, decorative masquerade mask. the man’s outfit, a similar black. he stands in the shadowy corner, against a pedestal and with his arms crossed. 

those eyes — a dark gray that pierce through renjun’s pale skin and rapidly beating heart. the prince clutches his chest, clearing his throat. why does he feel this way all of a sudden, just from a stranger’s alluring stare? 

an unexplainable bond ties them together. renjun can’t escape that gaze nor the stranger’s smirk clearly directed towards him. a force pulls them together — renjun dazedly steps closer to the one in black, ignoring the scattered calls of his female guests. the stranger pushes himself off the pedestal, waiting — he knows. 

renjun gasps, then stops. he holds his next breath. he’s standing right in front of the stranger. he certainly is an enthralling existence. his honey-brown locks curl over his forehead, only half. the rest has been shoved towards the back of his head. his eyelids — what renjun can see of them — are tinted, just slightly, with a mahogany shimmer. on his ears hang silver crosses that twinkle under the chandelier’s light. his full face is hidden but renjun has no doubt that he is impeccably handsome.

“good evening, prince renjun,” the stranger greets, his deep voice not so unfamiliar to renjun’s flushed ears. he bows, hands held behind his back like any good gentleman should in the presence of royalty. 

“he-… hello.”

a chuckle, airy and pleasant, rings through the space they share. renjun has forgotten about his duty to socialize or romance a lady or whatever. this man has captured his attention and neither want to let go. it’s perfect — renjun wants a getaway from this bore of a party and the polished stranger wants renjun alone, all for himself. 

“shy, are we?”

“the people… i am not very comfortable around them.”

the grin remains. “but i am one of the people.”

renjun looks down at his shoes. “you… are different.” a curious expression meets the taller gaze. “who are you?”

a finger points to the mask. “i cannot say — not here, at least.”

“then come with me. i know a place that no one steps foot on.” 

renjun excitedly, though hurriedly heads to the doors swung open. for now, guards are not monitoring who slips in and who leaves. he holds out his hand, beckoning the stranger to grasp it. “come, stranger, before my parents notice.”

“as you wish, your majesty.”

they dash through the doors, hand in hand. they run through the velvet-layered halls, leather footsteps warning anyone nearby of their doings. but the castle is empty, for all servants are busy at the fully occupied ballroom, so no one knows of prince renjun running off with a masked gentleman clad in darkness to who knows where. 

renjun halts. so far, they’ve traveled down hallways and entered the back area of the castle, a wide land of bush-mazes, beds of roses, statues, and a fountain. the gardener is gone, probably off to have a couple drinks himself — which is just perfect. 

the orchard. apples, oranges, cherries, pears, and more are here. it is renjun’s favorite place on the castle grounds; during the summer, the trees provide shade. when the fruits ripen, he is free to harvest anything he’d like. and on a night like this, the lampposts and spacious grass field make a lovely little place to have some alone time. no person ever visits the orchard except for the gardener, either.

“an orchard, my prince?” the stranger asks with amused hums at the unique choice. 

renjun meekly nods. his nose points to the sky — the deep navy blanket sprayed with stars and illuminated by a full moon. “it’s beautiful.”

“...yes.” the other is looking at renjun longingly. “i agree.”

their eyes meet once more. the stare lingers for much too long and the invisible force, still ever so present, pulls their bodies together. moonlight spills on them like a spotlight on a stage — or the chandelier of a ballroom. it is an invitation — an invitation to dance under the moon — that neither are able to resist. music is not present, but they can hear the same melody: a melody of two hearts, eager to be close to one another.

“may i have this dance, prince renjun?”

“you may.”

they take one step towards each other. to renjun’s right, their hands join. with his left, he grasps onto the taller stranger’s shoulder carefully, while a hand is placed on his waist, even though it should be on his back. renjun looks to him quizzically. 

“i don’t think your… hand…”

he leans to his ear. a low, chill-inducing whisper: “this isn’t the ballroom. no need to be so strict, is there?” renjun supposes he has a point. 

slow steps, gentle movements, a smile here and there. the moonlight shines on renjun, his eyes full of stars and glossy, peach-hued lips. an innocent face that is untouched, unkissed, untainted. oh, what a sight he is for the one in the mask — how dangerously tempting it is for him to swoop him up and devour him on that spot. but… patience and care is important. he can contain himself, though god knows for how much longer. 

renjun glances. “stranger, who are you really?” they rotate in a semi-circle together; the hand on the prince’s waist tugs closer. the silvery eyes close, eyelids heavy.

“an admirer, you could say. my thoughts have been consumed by you, prince renjun, for years…” he takes in a deep breath. “i have longed to see you but never had the opportunity — not until now.”

they stare. renjun is, mostly, speechless. but there’s no need to talk during a dance, anyways. they move in sync, renjun’s steps a little sloppy. he isn’t accustomed to dancing the lady’s part. his partner, on the other hand, is dancing flawlessly. it almost seems like there’s music playing in the background, but there isn’t — it’s just the mysteriously charming masked man and his smooth, flowing moves. it is simple to tell that he’s taken lessons at the professional level. just from the way he holds renjun like he cherishes the prince, the occasional glances he gives him, the switching between being a polite dancer and grabbing renjun close to his body with desire — so the two can feel one another’s hot breaths — is more than enough for him to fall, both in love and literally to the ground.

“your mask,” says renjun, blinking his eyelashes curiously at the mask and eyes — an expression that, enhanced by the moonlight, captures a silent exhale of lovestruck astonishment from the one watching. “may i ask you to remove it?”

“if the royal prince wishes,” he begins, his feet coming to rest. their connected hands lower and eventually part — the stranger is now holding renjun’s waist with both his hands, which means that it is oh-so-easy for him to reel in the smaller prince and press their torsos together. and so he does, though he leaves a teasing gap between themselves. he smiles into his words, continuing, “you may remove it yourself,” and he tilts his chin at a slight angle downwards, giving renjun an easier time at reaching the mask.

renjun’s hand — delicate and pretty, one free of blisters and marks, a sign of him never having to do labor work — reaches up, his thin fingers idly swimming midair in anticipation. his vision darts between the gray eyes — they remind him of the moon — that have been fixed on the prince for the entire night and finally, now that renjun is in his arms, are satisfied. the mask, renjun pinches, and comes off, not too swift to avoid possibly hurting him. 

his full face — one of gentleness yet, at the same time, mischievousness — brings a swarm of old memories to resurface in renjun. the eyes, nose, lips, the smile where shiny teeth barely peek from curved lips all form one singular face that he’s seen before many times. he _knew_ it, he _knew_ that this person was somehow familiar; the voice, he sort of recognized, but could’ve been a misunderstanding because he obviously matured since their last meeting. it comes back in a blur and renjun, in a moment of confusion and urge to completely remember who the attractive young man is, tugs on the taller’s sleeves. they’re close, very close. renjun gets lost in his eyes, the ones that look at him so lovingly. that’s right — he knows who this is. it was when he was barely a boy, when a family from the west came over for one night to celebrate his birthday. they had an outgoing son that stuck close to the quiet renjun, and they ran throughout the castle as if they were on a journey around the world — renjun’s greatest dream — and had no care to spare for any of the adults that warned them to quit acting so childishly. the boy was renjun’s escape from reality that lasted only one night, that made him cry out of sadness when he left and never came back. and now, he’s here — older and devilishly handsome, but he’s here in the flesh and blood, a reunion renjun was convinced would only happen in his imagination. the name — he only ever learned his first — flashes in his head brightly and boldly. gazing up with large eyes and a growing smile, renjun grasps the other’s hands, entwining their fingers, just to make sure one last time that he’s real. 

“jaemin…”


End file.
